The Guitar Behind the Cough Syrup

The back room of the pharmacy smelled of cardboard and mint. Anand had worked there for three weeks, and in that time he had learned that nobody ever tidied it properly. Shelves of cough syrup and bandages climbed to the ceiling, and between two of them, wrapped in a faded blanket, stood a guitar.

Ruang belakang apotek itu berbau kardus dan mint. Anand sudah bekerja di sana tiga minggu, dan selama itu ia belajar bahwa tidak pernah ada yang merapikannya dengan benar. Rak-rak berisi sirup batuk dan perban menjulang sampai langit-langit, dan di antara dua rak, terbungkus selimut pudar, berdiri sebuah gitar.

He found it on his second day. The wood was scratched, one tuning peg was missing, and on the lower curve of the body someone had carved a name with a knife. The letters spelled NELLY. They were deep and a little crooked, as if the carver had been laughing.

Ia menemukannya pada hari kedua. Kayunya tergores, satu pasak penyetelnya hilang, dan pada lengkung bawah badannya seseorang mengukir sebuah nama dengan pisau. Hurufnya membentuk NELLY. Ukirannya dalam dan sedikit miring, seakan si pengukir sambil tertawa.

"Don't touch her," said Jovan from the doorway. He was the senior technician, a broad, calm man who ate one apple at exactly the same time every afternoon. "She isn't ours."

"Jangan sentuh dia," kata Jovan dari ambang pintu. Ia teknisi senior, pria bertubuh besar yang tenang dan memakan satu apel pada jam yang persis sama setiap sore. "Dia bukan milik kita."

"Whose is she?" Anand asked.

"Milik siapa dia?" tanya Anand.

Jovan told him the story while they counted boxes of painkillers. Twelve years earlier, a young musician had rushed in with a ruined voice and a concert that night. The venue had paid her late, and she had no money for the medicine. She left the guitar as a deposit.

Jovan menceritakan kisahnya sambil mereka menghitung kotak obat pereda nyeri. Dua belas tahun sebelumnya, seorang musisi muda bergegas masuk dengan suara yang rusak dan konser malam itu. Penyelenggara membayarnya terlambat, dan ia tidak punya uang untuk obatnya. Ia meninggalkan gitar itu sebagai jaminan.

"The pharmacist told her to come back when she could pay," Jovan said. "He promised the guitar would be waiting. She never came."

"Apoteker menyuruhnya kembali ketika sudah bisa membayar," kata Jovan. "Ia berjanji gitar itu akan menunggu. Wanita itu tidak pernah datang."

"Is Nelly her name, or the guitar's?" Anand said.

"Nelly itu nama dia, atau nama gitarnya?" tanya Anand.

"Nobody knows. Nobody ever asked the right person." Jovan shrugged and bit into his apple. "The pharmacist retired, the owner changed twice, and Nelly stayed behind the cough syrup. That is how things work here."

"Tidak ada yang tahu. Tidak pernah ada yang bertanya kepada orang yang tepat." Jovan mengangkat bahu dan menggigit apelnya. "Apotekernya pensiun, pemiliknya berganti dua kali, dan Nelly tetap tinggal di belakang sirup batuk. Begitulah cara kerja di sini."

Anand ran his thumb along the carved letters. The wood felt warm and smooth, like something that had been held by many hands before it was forgotten. He had played in a school band for one terrible year, and he knew what it meant to leave an instrument alone in the dark.

Anand mengusap ukiran huruf itu dengan ibu jarinya. Kayunya terasa hangat dan halus, seperti sesuatu yang pernah dipegang banyak tangan sebelum dilupakan. Ia pernah main di band sekolah selama satu tahun yang buruk, dan ia tahu rasanya membiarkan alat musik sendirian dalam gelap.

The next morning the owner called everyone into the shop for a meeting. The pharmacy was moving to a bigger building at the end of the month, and the old back room had to be empty by Friday. A cleaning crew would arrive at nine to clear whatever was left.

Keesokan paginya pemilik memanggil semua orang ke toko untuk rapat. Apotek itu akan pindah ke gedung yang lebih besar pada akhir bulan, dan ruang belakang yang lama harus kosong paling lambat hari Jumat. Tim kebersihan akan datang pukul sembilan untuk membuang apa pun yang tersisa.

"Anything unclaimed goes into the skip," the owner said, looking at a list. "Old shelves, broken chairs, that guitar. I am sorry, but we cannot carry everything with us."

"Apa pun yang tidak diambil akan masuk bak sampah," kata pemilik sambil melihat sebuah daftar. "Rak tua, kursi rusak, gitar itu. Saya minta maaf, tapi kita tidak bisa membawa semuanya."

Jovan said nothing, but Anand saw his jaw tighten. Afterwards, in the back room, Jovan took his coat from its hook and sighed.

Jovan tidak berkata apa-apa, tetapi Anand melihat rahangnya mengeras. Setelah itu, di ruang belakang, Jovan mengambil mantelnya dari gantungan dan menghela napas.

"I would fight for her, but I leave tomorrow for a week of training in another city. I will not be here on Friday."

"Aku mau memperjuangkannya, tapi besok aku berangkat pelatihan seminggu di kota lain. Hari Jumat aku tidak ada di sini."

"Then I will make sure she doesn't go in the skip," Anand said. The words came out before he had thought about them. "I promise."

"Kalau begitu aku akan memastikan dia tidak masuk bak sampah," kata Anand. Kata-kata itu keluar sebelum ia sempat memikirkannya. "Aku janji."

Jovan looked at him for a long moment. "Then she is your problem now," he said, and he almost smiled.

Jovan memandangnya lama. "Kalau begitu dia sekarang urusanmu," katanya, dan ia nyaris tersenyum.

Anand soon discovered how heavy a promise could be. On Monday he searched the old ledger from the shelf above the sink and found a line dated twelve years earlier. It read: guitar, deposit, throat medicine, and a phone number. He called it that evening. A recorded voice told him the number no longer existed.

Anand segera menemukan betapa beratnya sebuah janji. Pada hari Senin ia mencari buku besar lama dari rak di atas wastafel dan menemukan satu baris bertanggal dua belas tahun sebelumnya. Isinya: gitar, jaminan, obat tenggorokan, dan sebuah nomor telepon. Ia menelepon nomor itu malam harinya. Suara rekaman mengatakan nomor itu sudah tidak ada.

On Tuesday he tried the address beside the number. It was a hairdressing salon, and the young woman at the desk had never heard of anyone called Nelly. She suggested he try the music shop two streets away. The music shop owner listened politely, looked at the photo Anand showed him, and shook his head.

Pada hari Selasa ia mencoba alamat di samping nomor itu. Itu sebuah salon rambut, dan wanita muda di meja depan belum pernah mendengar siapa pun bernama Nelly. Ia menyarankan Anand mencoba toko musik dua jalan dari sana. Pemilik toko musik mendengarkan dengan sopan, melihat foto yang ditunjukkan Anand, dan menggeleng.

"A battered guitar with a name carved in it," the man said. "I could name you fifty of those, and not one of them is looking for its owner."

"Gitar penyok dengan nama terukir di atasnya," kata pria itu. "Saya bisa menyebutkan lima puluh yang seperti itu, dan tak satu pun mencari pemiliknya."

On Wednesday Anand wrote a notice and taped it inside the shop window. It said: A guitar called Nelly has been waiting here for twelve years. If she is yours, please come and collect her. The owner read it at lunchtime and took it down again.

Pada hari Rabu Anand menulis pengumuman dan menempelkannya di bagian dalam jendela toko. Bunyinya: Sebuah gitar bernama Nelly telah menunggu di sini selama dua belas tahun. Jika dia milik Anda, silakan datang dan ambil dia. Pemilik membacanya saat makan siang dan mencopotnya lagi.

"We cannot have strange notices in the window while customers are coming in for medicine," the owner said, not unkindly. "And we cannot keep her either. The new shop has no space for a guitar."

"Kita tidak boleh menempelkan pengumuman aneh di jendela saat pelanggan datang membeli obat," kata pemilik, tidak dengan kasar. "Dan kita juga tidak bisa menyimpannya. Toko baru tidak punya ruang untuk gitar."

That left Thursday, and a plan Anand was not proud of. He carried Nelly out through the loading door after closing time, wrapped in her blanket, and hung her from the handlebars of his bicycle. The ride home took twenty minutes. Twice she bumped against the wheel with a deep, hollow note that made a passing dog stop and stare.

Itu menyisakan hari Kamis, dan sebuah rencana yang tidak Anand banggakan. Ia membawa Nelly keluar lewat pintu bongkar muat setelah jam tutup, terbungkus selimutnya, dan menggantungnya di setang sepedanya. Perjalanan pulang memakan dua puluh menit. Dua kali gitar itu menabrak roda dengan nada dalam yang hampa sehingga seekor anjing yang lewat berhenti dan menatap.

His flatmate opened the door and looked at the guitar. "You have stolen an instrument," she said.

Teman serumahnya membuka pintu dan melihat gitar itu. "Kamu mencuri alat musik," katanya.

"I have rescued an instrument," Anand said. "It is different."

"Aku menyelamatkan alat musik," kata Anand. "Itu berbeda."

"Not legally," she said, but she let him in.

"Tidak secara hukum," katanya, tetapi ia membiarkan Anand masuk.

That night he sat on his bed and tried to understand what he had actually promised. He had not promised to find the owner. He had not promised to keep Nelly forever. He had promised that she would not go into the skip. If he kept her in his bedroom for the rest of his life, he would keep the promise. It would be a poor sort of keeping, because no one would ever hear her again.

Malam itu ia duduk di tempat tidurnya dan mencoba memahami apa sebenarnya yang telah ia janjikan. Ia tidak berjanji mencari pemiliknya. Ia tidak berjanji menyimpan Nelly selamanya. Ia berjanji bahwa gitar itu tidak akan masuk bak sampah. Kalau ia menyimpannya di kamar tidurnya seumur hidup, ia telah menepati janji. Itu cara menepati yang buruk, karena tidak akan ada yang mendengarnya lagi.

He found a video of a teacher showing four simple chords. He bought a new tuning peg and a set of strings at the music shop. The owner of the shop, who now seemed interested in spite of himself, showed him how to fit them. By midnight Anand could play one song badly. By Friday morning he could play it a little less badly.

Ia menemukan video seorang guru yang menunjukkan empat kunci sederhana. Ia membeli pasak penyetel baru dan satu set senar di toko musik. Pemilik toko itu, yang kini tampak tertarik meski tidak ingin, menunjukkan cara memasangnya. Menjelang tengah malam Anand bisa memainkan satu lagu dengan buruk. Pada Jumat pagi ia bisa memainkannya sedikit kurang buruk.

On Friday the cleaning crew arrived at nine and found the back room empty, except for the broken chairs. The owner arrived at ten, in a hurry, and found Anand waiting at the door with a guitar that was not his.

Pada hari Jumat tim kebersihan tiba pukul sembilan dan menemukan ruang belakang kosong, kecuali kursi-kursi rusak. Pemilik tiba pukul sepuluh, tergesa-gesa, dan menemukan Anand menunggu di pintu dengan gitar yang bukan miliknya.

"I need five minutes," Anand said. "Please. Then I will not trouble you again."

"Saya butuh lima menit," kata Anand. "Tolong. Setelah itu saya tidak akan merepotkan Anda lagi."

The owner glanced at the clock, sighed, and followed him into the shop. It was nearly empty, because the last customers were leaving with their bags, and Anand stood beside the counter and played his one song.

Pemilik melirik jam, menghela napas, dan mengikutinya ke dalam toko. Toko itu hampir kosong, karena pelanggan terakhir sedang pergi dengan tas mereka, dan Anand berdiri di samping konter lalu memainkan satu lagunya.

It was not a good performance. He missed a chord in the second verse and played the last one twice by mistake. But the woman waiting for her prescription turned around, and two children stopped pulling at their father's sleeve, and the whole shop went quiet.

Itu bukan pertunjukan yang bagus. Ia melewatkan satu kunci di bait kedua dan memainkan kunci terakhir dua kali karena salah. Tetapi wanita yang menunggu resepnya menoleh, dan dua anak berhenti menarik-narik lengan baju ayah mereka, dan seluruh toko menjadi hening.

When he finished, someone clapped. It was the owner.

Ketika ia selesai, seseorang bertepuk tangan. Itu pemilik.

"I did not know she could sound like that," the owner said slowly. "Twelve years behind the cough syrup, and nobody ever played her." Then, after a pause: "The new shop has a long wall by the door. It is empty. A guitar can hang there."

"Saya tidak tahu dia bisa bersuara seperti itu," kata pemilik perlahan. "Dua belas tahun di belakang sirup batuk, dan tak seorang pun pernah memainkannya." Lalu, setelah jeda: "Toko baru punya dinding panjang di dekat pintu. Kosong. Gitar bisa digantung di sana."

"As decoration?" Anand asked.

"Sebagai hiasan?" tanya Anand.

"As the oldest member of staff," said the owner. "With a card beside her, saying that she is still waiting for her owner. Let people see her. If the musician is out there, perhaps she will walk past one day."

"Sebagai anggota staf tertua," kata pemilik. "Dengan kartu di sampingnya, yang menyatakan bahwa dia masih menunggu pemiliknya. Biarkan orang melihatnya. Kalau sang musisi ada di luar sana, mungkin suatu hari dia akan lewat."

So Nelly moved to the new pharmacy in a taxi, wrapped in her blanket. Anand held her on his lap like a very important patient. By the following Monday she hung on the long wall, polished and restrung, under a small card that Anand had lettered himself.

Maka Nelly pindah ke apotek baru dengan taksi, terbungkus selimutnya. Anand memangkunya seperti pasien yang sangat penting. Pada Senin berikutnya gitar itu sudah tergantung di dinding panjang, dipoles dan dipasangi senar baru, di bawah kartu kecil yang ditulis sendiri oleh Anand.

Jovan came back from his training course that morning. He walked into the new shop, put down his bag, and stood in front of the wall for a long time. Then he read the card out loud.

Jovan kembali dari pelatihannya pagi itu. Ia masuk ke toko baru, meletakkan tasnya, dan berdiri lama di depan dinding itu. Lalu ia membaca kartu itu keras-keras.

"Nelly. Staff member since twelve years ago. Senior technician." He turned around slowly. "Senior technician? I am the senior technician."

"Nelly. Anggota staf sejak dua belas tahun lalu. Teknisi senior." Ia berbalik perlahan. "Teknisi senior? Akulah teknisi senior."

"She has been here longer than you," Anand said.

"Dia sudah di sini lebih lama darimu," kata Anand.

Jovan looked at the guitar and sighed. "In that case," he said, "she can count the boxes."

Jovan memandang gitar itu dan menghela napas. "Kalau begitu," katanya, "dia bisa menghitung kotak-kotaknya."